It's ridiculous, silly, and dumb and yet High School Record is probably one of the best films I've ever seen about indie rock youth, especially in Los Angeles. Fader Magazine sponsored a screening at L.A. Center Studios on Monday, finally giving locals a chance to see what outsiders have been berating recently. People that didn't get this movie at its recent premiere at Sundance probably never sat in the back alley in between bands at The Smell. This may sound like the film is a bit too narrowly focused for wider appeal but I don't think so. Awkwardness, insecurities, and belonging are all universally common feelings for everyone although perhaps these emotions are magnified when living in a city where everyone has their psychotherapist, minister, and plastic surgeon on speed dial.
I laughed, maybe not as loud as the friends and family of the cast and crew, but I laughed. And there are some nice introspective moments as well. Although hardly flawless (the chalkboard discussion on vaginal pleasure goes 30 seconds too long), it feels flawless at times (especially the first half of the movie) because of its clever movie-in-a-movie "flawed" technique and for the fact that its documentary-style narrative flows pretty seamlessly. What's probably most surprising about the film is that the cast is really, really good. Made up of pretty much everyone that hangs out at The Smell (still the best all-ages club in town), including the Clavins and Thornhill from Mika Miko and Spunt from The Wives, the film is filled with performances that are subtle, nuanced, and perfect. Well, except maybe for Becky Stark who plays the celestial theatre teacher Ms. Farewell. She's not acting. That's really her. As one of the few "adults" in the movie, she serves as the movie's moral conscience but with a nice modernist flair (she has an affair with a student.) Still, she does have one of the best lines of the movie at the end, which tidies up everything pretty nicely. All in all, it's a great little teenager movie told like a fanciful tale... Clavin's bike ride down Glendale Blvd. is dreamy...
After the screening, there were performances by members of the cast at the Smell. Before that, I took a detour to the Echo. Without even walking in, my ears were already gravitating to a violin that only could be played by Petra Haden. I'm not sure what project this was (she's in so many), but it was pretty damn great. If you don't have her new stuff with Bill Frisell or her new utterly brilliant Who Sell Out redux release you need to not eat this month and go buy them.
